


The Necropolis Gate

by Aedemiel



Series: Necropolis [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-25 07:23:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17720696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aedemiel/pseuds/Aedemiel
Summary: Sequel to The Road Less Traveled. Sam and Gabriel have been drawn into Necropolis by the Illini Gate and Dean, Mary and Cas have to figure out how to save them and how to discover the plans of the evil ruler of Necropolis and defeat them.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened. One minute they’d all been talking about an opening rune and the next, Sam had managed to activate some spell and produced a weird swirly vortex where the carvings had been.

“Grab him!” Gabriel yelled, springing into action and clutching Sam’s right arm. Dean and Mary took Sam’s left and Cas joined Gabriel to try and pull Sam away from the Gate.

“What’s going on?” Dean grated as he yanked on his brother with all his strength. But it was almost impossible, Sam would not budge. He didn’t even seem to be aware of what was happening. He was gazing almost wistfully into that appalling nothingness in a way that terrified Dean.

“The Gate is open,” Gabriel wheezed. “I think it’s calling to Sam.”

“Sammy!” Dean barked. “Snap out of it, man. We gotta get away from this thing.”

“Sam!” Mary added her voice. “Sweetheart, please. Listen to me.”

But Sam’s face remained calm and resolute, unmoved by anything that was being said. Dean wasn’t even sure he could hear them. And then he shoved at them all with a superhuman burst of strength, sending Dean and Mary tumbling to the ground and Cas and Gabriel staggering backwards. They watched in horror as Sam determinedly propelled himself forward, deliberately throwing himself into the aching maw of the Illini Gate. At the last moment, Gabriel managed to snag Sam’s jacket, but momentum was against him and instead of pulling Sam back from the brink, they both fell headlong into the horrific blackness and vanished.

 “No!” Cas gave a panicked yelp. But it was too late. The vortex began shrinking rapidly and within seconds it was gone. “NO!”

 Someone was screaming and Dean really wished they would stop. He rolled over onto his side, trying to process what had just happened. “Cas,” he croaked, his throat sore. Had he been the one screaming? He wasn’t sure. “Cas, what happened?”

 “I don’t know how, but Sam managed to open the Gate,” Cas said breathlessly. “It hypnotized him, made him want to enter it. I don’t understand why.”  Dean began to crawl over to where his brother had disappeared. “Dean, stay away from there! Just because it’s closed doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous.”

 “I’ve got rescue Sam,” Dean snarled.

 “Gabriel will take care of him,” Cas told him. He climbed laboriously to his feet and then walked over to Mary to help her up. “I’ll contact Michael and ask for his help.”

 “Michael?” Dean said, standing up and leaning against the rockface. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Cas.”

 “Have you a better one?” the angel challenged. “Nobody in Heaven can open this Gate. Who else can help us? The only other archangel available is Lucifer. And I doubt he’s feeling generous.”

 “I might have another idea,” Mary said.

* * *

 

Sam opened crusted eyes and peered into the gloom, trying to make out a familiar shape. A chill ran down his spine as he realized that he knew exactly where he was. The rough edges of the flagstones were horribly familiar, as were the crates in the corner and the strange bluish light that filtered in from the small opening in the wooden door. This was the room from his vision. Reaching out, his fingers located the dagger he’d found before but instead of a tarot card alongside, he found a warm body. He pulled his hands back quickly in alarm. Who the Hell was that? He vaguely remembered feeling a pull on his clothes as he fell into that mesmerizing black hole.

Falling through that strange vortex had reminded him of when he’d taken the swan dive into the Cage when possessed by Lucifer. But there had been significant differences too. Falling into the pit, Lucifer had screamed his rage out inside Sam’s skull and Michael had been snarling into his face the whole way. This fall had been peaceful, no sound or even physical sensations had assaulted him and it had really felt more like drifting. The constant presence of a pulling sensation on his jacket had been the only thing that had felt real - everything else seemed like a dream. But he didn’t remember landing here. There was an infinite space of blackness in his memory, like waking up from a long, dreamless sleep.

“Hey,” he said hoarsely. “Dean, is that you?”

“No…” a familiar voice said. Gabriel! His voice sounded really peculiar.

“Gabriel?”

“May. Be. May. Be. NOT!” There was a sudden rustling sound and then Sam could see Gabriel’s shadowy outline. He was standing, but hunched over as if in terrible pain.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked.

Gabriel was breathing heavily and he swayed. “This. Place. Tearing. At my. Mind,” he gritted out.

"What can I do?” Sam got to his feet and grabbed the archangel’s shoulders.

“Not sure.” Gabriel was rocking back and forth and in the gloom, Sam could see an odd glow coming from his eyes.

“Gabriel, stay with me,” he said urgently.

“Trying,” Gabriel gasped. “F-f-f-failing.”

Sam cursed. The memory of a crazed Arariel made him swallow past a lump in his throat. He couldn’t afford to let Gabriel go down that path. He had to distract him somehow, ground him and give him something to focus on. There was only two things Sam could think of that would do that. Pain was one, but the idea of inflicting pain on Gabriel was uncomfortable, to say the least. Sam decided to hold that in reserve while he tried his other idea.

Leaning forwards slowly, so as not to take Gabriel by surprise, he gently pressed his lips to the archangel’s mouth. He had intended to keep the kiss soft, sensuous and undemanding but Gabriel had other ideas, melting into his arms and opening his mouth, letting Sam deepen the kiss and tangle their tongues together. Sam thrust one hand under Gabriel’s shirt, sliding over heated skin and the archangel arched under his touch. It was insane really, but he couldn’t focus on anything else but how he felt. Gabriel tore his mouth away from Sam’s with a gasp. Sam couldn’t interpret the look on Gabriel’s face, but at least he looked more like himself.

“Interesting strategy there, Sam,” he breathed. He looked both astonished and wary, it was not a good combination.

Sam felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. “It was either that or slap your face.”

Gabriel laughed at that but it soon faded as he took in the room and his face fell. “Sam, we’re in Necropolis.”

“I figured. You know, this room is just like the one from my vision.”

Gabriel looked sharply at him. “Is it now? Exactly the same?”

“Well, no, not quite. In my vision, there was one of Michael’s tarot cards in here along with a dagger.” Sam produced the dagger he’d found. “I found the knife, but instead of the card, there was you.”

Gabriel frowned. “I wonder what that means.” He was beginning to look seriously alarmed and a worm of discomfort began to unfurl in Sam’s gut.

“This place will twist us in ways you can’t imagine. We really should try and get out of here,” the archangel said seriously.

Sam took a couple of deep breaths. “This place is attacking you?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “Your… unorthodox method of distraction will work for a while but I can already feel it pressing at my mind again. And there’s not much I can do. Magic doesn’t work here, Sam.” The archangel was staring at him in wonder. His hands were shaking as he raised them to Sam’s face. “But that means…”

“Any enchantment I was under shouldn’t be working anymore. My attraction to you is real after all,” Sam finished, awestruck. He leaned forward to kiss Gabriel again and to his consternation, the archangel backed away with a regretful look.

“We will need to talk about this.” He waved a hand between the two of them. “But this isn’t the time. Or place.”

Sam was hurt by the implicit rejection but Gabriel was right. This really wasn’t a good time to be exploring how they felt about each other. He pushed the thoughts away and focused on the problem at hand. “Magic doesn’t work at all? What about Loki’s abilities?”

“Unfortunately not,” Gabriel said ruefully. “If I had my Grace--” he broke off with a bitten off word in Enochian. Sam suspected it was a curse.

“So how do we fight it?”

Gabriel rubbed his hands over his face. “Skin-to-skin contact helps. That’s why the kiss worked. But holding hands should suffice.”

Sam offered up his hand and Gabriel tentatively reached out and took it. His skin was warm and dry and just standing there, holding hands, made Sam feel almost giddy with joy. He tried to suppress any outward expression of it but he could see the answering light in Gabriel’s eyes despite the darkness.

“So what now?” Sam asked.

“What else do you remember from your vision?” Gabriel pressed. “Try and focus on the contrasts.”

“The other thing that’s different is once I found the card, the door here opened. This one is still closed.”

“Is it locked?” Gabriel asked, dropping Sam’s hand and heading over to investigate. He pulled hard on the door handle but it only rattled in its frame. “Looks like a yes.”

Perhaps this was more a cell than a room. But Sam couldn’t see a keyhole anywhere. He peered through the small viewing window and he could see a large wooden bar across the door.

“I think it’s barred not locked,” Sam said. “If we push this dagger between the door and the frame, we might be able to lift the bar.” He slid the dagger through the gap and wiggled it experimentally. “It might not be strong enough, but let’s try it.”

He carefully began to raise the dagger vertically, not wanting to make any sudden moves. There was considerable weight on the blade and it moved with a low scraping sound. Finally, when he’d lifted it about six inches, he made a movement with his head indicating to Gabriel that he ought to try pulling the door. The archangel tugged hard on the handle and the door flew open, the bar falling to the ground with a loud bang. Sam and Gabriel froze, but it seemed that nobody had noticed the noise. Sam looked ruefully at the dagger, which had fallen from his grasp when the door opened. The blade had completely buckled and was useless. Damn.

Sam poked his head around the door and looked out into the dimly lit corridor. Unlike the one in his dream, this hallway had no windows and was lit only by two burning torches in sconces on the walls.

“It’s clear, at least for now,” he told Gabriel.

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

 

“You’re not serious!” Dean yelled. “After what those fuckers did to Sam and Cas? Tell me this is a joke!”

“Dean, I don’t like what they did any more than you do, but we do have a shared interest here. The world they’re promising, the world they’ve managed to implement in Britain, works. A lot of hunters could get out of the business if they wanted to, the ones who stayed would be the ones who wanted to stay. Deaths of civilians by monsters would become almost unheard of. Tell me that isn’t something to strive for!” Mary had her hands on her hips and she was twitching with suppressed energy. Dean had almost perfectly mirrored her stance in a way that made Cas want to smile, were it not entirely inappropriate. But they were stuck between two bad choices. Ask for Michael’s help or the British Men of Letters and in either case, hope the price wasn’t too high.

“Dean, I think this needs to be your decision,” Cas said when Mary had finished.

“Why me?” the hunter whined.

“Because Mary and I have both stated our preferred course of action. You hold the deciding vote.” Cas hated the way Dean’s face looked, lined with stress and despair. The urge to reach out to him was strong and it took considerable effort of will to just stand there and let Dean consider the options.

Dean’s shoulders heaved as he thought hard. “I hate this,” he complained under his breath. It was too much for Cas, who gave in and placed a hand on his shoulder. Dean tilted his head back, giving Cas the long view of his throat. His hand flexed in reaction.

“I know this is hard,” Cas said.

Dean blew out a breath. “Yeah. Cas, I’m sorry, man but I’m gonna go with Mom’s suggestion. Let’s see what these limey sons of bitches can do before we start thinking about doing something really crazy.”

Cas knew he looked disappointed, he couldn’t help it. He let his hand drop and nodded to show that he understood.

“I’ll call Mick,” Mary said, pulling out her phone.

* * *

Ketch watched the woman he’d been stalking for the past three hours leave the grocery store and pack the bags into her trunk. He had to admit it, he was bored. This was the great and terrifying witch, Constance McBride? So far he’d followed her to yoga, hung around unobtrusively as she met with a friend at a coffee shop and now grocery shopping.

His phone buzzed and he looked down at it, hoping it might be Mary. His lip curled when he saw Mick’s number flash up and he answered it.

“Please tell me you’ve got something interesting,” he complained. “I’m going out of my mind watching the dullest witch in North America do her chores.”

“I think this will do the trick,” Mick said. “Mary’s just called in. Dean Winchester’s reaching out.”

“Fuck Dean Winchester,” Ketch snarled. “What do I care about him? I told you, Mary’s the only Winchester worth a damn.”

“That’s as may be,” Mick laughed. “But you’re going to want to hear what they have to say.”

“I’m in the middle of a stakeout.”

“Trust me, Ketch, this is worth your time.” When Ketch didn’t reply, Mick seemed to realize he was going to have to give him something. “They’ve found an open Gate into Necropolis.”

Ketch was not easily surprised. He was a good observer of human nature and could predict behavior to the point that he found most people dreary and uninteresting. Mary was a wild card and he was man enough to admit that was part of the attraction. But the idea that those bumbling boys of hers had stumbled onto something the Men of Letters had been searching for since the first chapterhouse had opened in the fourteenth century, that was a surprise. Some scholars had even disputed whether the fabled city even really existed. To actually find a Gate… He shook himself out of his reverie when he heard Mick’s voice echoing tinnily down the line.

“Ketch? Are you still there?”

"Yes,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

* * *

Sam followed Gabriel down the corridor, the shadows flickering and twisting with the motion of the torch flames, dancing in a breeze that seemed to come from up ahead. He held tightly onto Gabriel’s hand, enjoying that small measure of closeness and he was so distracted by it, he was startled when the archangel stopped and spun around, thrusting him backwards and pressing him to the wall with the flat of his hand.

He opened his mouth to speak and Gabriel’s eyes flared in alarm. He slapped his free hand over Sam’s mouth and glared his admonition for him not to make a sound. Sam swallowed hard, his body instantly reacting to the way Gabriel was pinning him in place and he struggled to get control over himself. He breathed in and out through his nose before nodding. Gabriel cautiously moved his hand from his mouth and then, to Sam’s astonishment, slid that hand down his torso and under his t-shirt, coming to rest on Sam’s hip.

There was a scraping sound in the distance, and a curious jingling sound like tiny bells. Whatever it was, Gabriel clearly didn’t want it to see them. What they would do if it came this way, Sam wasn’t sure. But the sound was moving away from them and as it faded, Gabriel relaxed. Sam looked down at him, his bottom lip caught in his teeth and a wave of desire washed over him. Gabriel looked up at him uncertainly.

“What was that?” Sam whispered.

“Guard automaton,” Gabriel hissed, still casting glances in the direction the sounds had come from. “They march in proscribed routes, so it’ll be back. We need to move.”

“What happens if one catches us?”

Gabriel’s mouth quirked downwards. “If we’re lucky it’ll just kill us.” His tone suggested Sam might not want to ask any more questions.

“OK,” Sam said. “Let’s go.”

Gabriel pushed away from him and staggered, his eyes rolling upwards in his head. Sam gasped and caught him before he hit the floor. “Gabriel!”

“M’fine,” the archangel said, sagging bonelessly in Sam’s arms.

“You’re not fine,” Sam insisted. “What do I do?”

“Iggle. Piggle,” Gabriel said nonsensically. Sam lowered him onto the floor and looked around, searching for inspiration. Finding none, he figured he had no choice but to use the method that had worked before. Feeling uncomfortably like he was forcing something on Gabriel without his consent, he lowered his head and kissed him. Gabriel’s lips parted and he sighed, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and pulling him closer. His tongue tangled with Sam’s in a sensuous dance that threatened to blot out everything but this insane need to get closer.

He thrust his hands under Gabriel’s shirt, thrilling at the slide of smooth skin and how it pimpled under his touch. Gabriel writhed beneath him, and as Sam gently disengaged from his mouth to trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck, the archangel’s head fell back and he groaned.

“Enough, Sam,” he gasped. Sam stilled and then cautiously backed off. “I’m OK.”

“Sorry,” Sam apologized, trying to battle the sense of rejection. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know,” Gabriel said. “But if we keep going like this, it won’t end well. Necropolis is a tainted place, and it’s feeding on us, on our desire for each other.”

“You make it sound as though it’s alive,” Sam said, discomfort finally pushing back at his arousal.

“It is,” Gabriel said. “It’s hard to explain but Nakhte and Necropolis are… not separate entities anymore.”

“OK,” Sam said. “So what now? Do you know anything about the layout of this place? How do we get out of here?”

“I know a bit. I was here before, during the war. Assuming Nakhte didn’t change the layout since then, the Fane will be this way,” Gabriel pointed to his left. “And the Main Gate will be that way.”

“How did we get into that room?” Sam asked. “Surely the Gate didn’t dump us there?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said. “The war between Heaven and Necropolis unleashed a lot of power, it probably scrambled everything up. And Nakhte wasn’t exactly sane to begin with.”

The scraping, jingling sound had started up again and Sam frowned. “The automaton?”

“Right,” Gabriel agreed. “Soon as it passes, we move, OK?”

* * *

 Ketch was sullen, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes burned, following Mary around the kitschy motel room. Dean didn’t like it, there was something possessive in the man’s gaze that he had no right to feel about his mom. Mick was friendly and helpful, ignoring Dean’s rude comments and Cas’s icy silence.

“So this Gate just opened up for Sam?” Mick was saying, his eyes bright as he typed up his notes on his laptop.

“We don’t know if Sam did anything by accident,” Mary said coolly. “We were all looking around the cave, not at each other.”

“And Sam seemed hypnotized by it, actively threw himself in?” Mick said, shaking his head in wonder. “Fascinating.”

“Oh yeah,” Dean said, getting to his feet. “It’s real fucking fascinating. I mean, my brother just fell through a hole in creation to a Hellish other dimension where they could be torturing him or doing God knows what, but the important thing is how interesting it is!”

“Dean,” Cas rumbled, placing a hand on his shoulder. Mick’s eyes flickered toward Ketch for a moment.

“I’m not trying to minimize your concerns over your brother,” Mick said smoothly. “Now please, can you finish the story?”

“Yeah,” Mary said. “He seemed mesmerized. He didn’t hear anything any of us said to him. And he was strong, I mean freakishly so. It had to have been some magical effect. And then he just leaped into the dark and Ga--” She coughed. “Gary went in after him.”

Cas’s mouth twitched. They’d decided to keep Gabriel’s name out of things for now, since they had no idea what the Men of Letters might do with the knowledge that there was a depowered archangel out there. But sooner or later, he feared someone was going to slip up.

“I see. Why did he do that?” Mick asked. It was a perfectly innocent and legitimate question but not one Cas wanted to answer.

“Him and Sam are good friends,” Dean said pugnaciously.

“Sure, but--” Mick broke off at the look on Dean’s face. “Never mind, it’s not important. Right, well I think I’ve got everything I need for my report. Now let’s talk about what we know and then strategy.”

“Good,” Dean said. He pushed back from the table and walked over to the cabinet to get a drink.

“Dean, it’s 11am,” Cas said.

“Get off my case, Cas,” Dean growled. The angel sighed and caught Mary’s eye. She shook her head at him and he backed down.

“So, I trawled through our databases and I’ve got researchers in London looking into the Archives,” Mick said. “So what I’m about to tell you is only the tip of the iceberg of knowledge we’ve collected on Necropolis over the centuries.”

“Centuries!” Mary exclaimed. Mick shrugged self-deprecatingly.

“So, the first records we have are from the now-defunct Hungarian chapter. Back in the fifteenth century, Matthias Corvinus established the Bibliotheca Corviniana, and the London Chapterhouse reached out to set up a new chapter in Buda as part of that effort. Matthias had found a cave under the monastery in Pannonhalma during its reconstruction and there he found one of the Gates to Necropolis. It was badly damaged and despite the years of scholarship that followed, we couldn’t figure out how to open it.” Mick tapped at his computer and pursed his lips. “I won’t bore you with a full history lesson.”

“Thank God,” Ketch snorted. Dean hated the fact that he basically agreed. He slurped at his bourbon, wishing the twitchy little Brit would get to the point.

“Let’s just say that we’ve been interested in Necropolis for almost as long as we’ve existed. From the few tablets and documents we’ve dug up over the years, we believe a number of powerful magical artifacts exist there. Including one we understand might greatly tip the balance for us in the war on monsters here in the US.”

Cas slammed his hands down on the tabletop, his face savage. “You’re talking about the Anima Licio and you’re a fool if you think that hideous artifact could be used for anything other than extraordinary evil.”

Mick started at the angel’s vehemence and now in a reversal of a few minutes ago, Dean had to reach out and snag his sleeve. Cas snapped his head around and glared at him.

“Take it easy, Cas.”

“I cannot ‘take it easy’,” the angel growled. “These people want to access the city. They don’t care about Sam or G-gary.” He shoved away from the table and began pacing. “Necropolis is too dangerous for humans to toy with. I warned you this was a bad idea.”

Dean’s temper flared. “I said, back down. You left this decision up to me, remember.” He turned his attention back to Mick. “Enough of this. How does it help us get Sam and uh… our other friend back?”

Mick smiled. “We know how to open the Gate. We couldn’t open the one at Pannonhalma because it was too damaged. We’ve never found an intact one before. So, take us to this one in Illinois and we’ll open it for you.”

“But none of us can go to this Necropolis place,” Mary objected. “Cas says it’s dangerous and I believe him.”

Mick’s face dropped. “We’re working on that part. There may be a spell or magical device we have that can protect you.”

Cas stared at him and then looked at Dean unhappily. “Please don’t do this,” he said. “They don’t understand what they’re playing with here.”

“I beg to differ,” Mick said, his tone cool. “The Men of Letters have been researching Necropolis almost since our inception. We know a great deal about it, and we understand the dangers.”

“Cas, I know you hate this. But Sam’s trapped in that awful place. I’m not doing this for fun,” Dean pleaded. Cas held his gaze for a moment, the blue irises mesmerizing Dean until he forgot what it was he was talking about. Cas placed a hand on his jaw, brushing a thumb across his cheek and it was only then that Dean realized he was crying. Horribly embarrassed and more than a little confused, he pushed Cas’s hand away and rubbed at his face.

Mick was politely keeping his eyes on his screen. Ketch was scowling at his phone and his mom was staring at him, an indecipherable expression on her face. Awesome.

“Right, well, I think we have a plan,” Mick said briskly, his discomfort at the naked emotion in the room plainly evident on his face. “We better head out and start rallying the troops. Come on, Ketch. We’ll uh, be in touch.”

Dean watched them leave, saw his mother give them some platitudes and then Ketch grabbed her hand, just for a second, and squeezed her fingers. It was an expression of affection and not one Dean was prepared to see. But neither was he up for another argument. He exhaled in frustration and stormed out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as the jingling sound of the automaton had faded, they made their move. Sam followed Gabriel as he darted down the corridor, seemingly finding his way almost by instinct. He clutched Gabriel’s hand tightly as there was no light at all and he was stumbling along completely blind. After a few moments, he felt the archangel come to a halt.

“Sam,” Gabriel said, and his voice was low and uncertain.

“What is it?”

Gabriel didn’t respond, he just tugged at Sam’s hand and indicated he wanted him to sit down. Sam slid cautiously down the wall until he reached the floor and to his surprise, Gabriel climbed into his lap and kissed him. It was the first time since they’d arrived in this awful place that he had initiated things, and Sam wasn’t sure what that meant but he had the sneaking suspicion it wasn’t good. He let Gabriel set the pace, a slow, sensuous kiss that coupled with the insistent press of their bodies made Sam’s head spin. He almost whimpered when Gabriel leaned back.

“This isn’t going to work,” Gabriel said after a pause, resting his forehead against Sam’s. “The effect is shorter-lived every time. We need another strategy.”

“OK,” Sam said, biting his lip. “What did you have in mind?”

“It depends on how much you trust me,” Gabriel replied. He sounded so hesitant, Sam’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest.

“I trust you,” he assured the archangel, rubbing his hands up and down Gabriel’s arms. “With my life.”

“How about your soul?” Gabriel’s voice was thin and distressed and it hurt to hear him like this.

“Absolutely,” Sam said, without hesitation. “Just spit it out, Gabriel. I promise not to freak out.”

The archangel sighed heavily. “You seem to be weathering the influence of Necropolis well,” he observed. “Is that true or are you just that good of an actor?”

Stung, Sam went rigid. “I really don’t feel anything unusual,” he said.

Gabriel leaned in to nuzzle at his neck. “I wasn’t attacking you,” he muttered against Sam’s skin. “You’re notoriously good at hiding your feelings, that’s all. You’re an unusual case, Sam. Possibly unique. Your soul is not pure human, there’s demonic essence and angelic Grace all bound up in there.”

“Nice,” Sam said acidly, which wasn’t easy given the relentless arousal Gabriel was managing to generate as he nibbled at Sam’s collarbone.

“No, Sam, don’t you see? Necropolis doesn’t know what you are. That’s why you’re immune to its influence because it can’t figure out how to get to you.” That didn’t sound quite as insulting and Sam unbent a little. “So, if you’re utterly grounded, and you trust me, you can shield me from Necropolis too.”

“How?” Sam asked, although all this talk of souls was giving him an idea. An idea he wasn’t sure he was going to like.

“Bind your soul to my Grace,” Gabriel said, lifting his head away from Sam’s neck. Sam wished dearly that he could see him. “Just like Castiel bound his Grace to Michael’s. I won’t lie to you Sam, it’s risky. But it’s the only thing I can think of to keep me sane in here, and frankly, I don’t like your chances of getting out of here without me.”

“When you say risky, what does that mean?” Sam pressed.

“Well, it may make you more vulnerable to Necropolis’s influence, as well as making me less so.” Sam had the impression Gabriel was ticking things off on his fingers. “Secondly, we might not be able to undo it later. Thirdly, there’ll be a certain degree of emotional and cognitive cross-traffic and fourthly, I will ruin you for anyone else.”

There was a lot to unpack there, and Sam was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. “OK,” he said, thinking furiously. “I can take the risk of increased vulnerability. I think we can keep each other grounded.” He felt Gabriel shift restlessly on his lap. “What did the bit about cross-traffic mean?”

“We’ll be able to pick up on each other’s thoughts and feelings,” Gabriel explained. “Not everything, and not all the time, but some is inevitable. I can teach you how to block me and how to shield yourself but it takes time to learn that skill.”

“OK. And that last comment about ruining me for anyone else?” Sam asked. It had sounded like a typical Gabriel boast, but the archangel had included it in his list of risks.

“Ah, well,” Gabriel hedged. Sam shoved at him and he coughed uncomfortably. “It’s a very intimate connection and you may have trouble letting go of it when the time comes. Detaching the connection has been described to me like a bereavement of a beloved spouse. You might have trouble with intimacy with anyone else afterwards.”

“Is that why we might have difficulty detaching it?” Sam asked.

“No,” Gabriel said. “It’s genuinely dangerous to your soul. We could accidentally rip it out when trying to detach our connection.”

“So, at best I’ll be left utterly bereft for the rest of my life and unable to form emotional relationships and at worst I could be soulless and I’ll be exposing all of my innermost thoughts and feelings to you whether I like it or not.” Sam summarized. Gabriel sighed and nodded. “In other words, I’d have to be insane to say yes.”

Gabriel climbed off him and stood up, moving away until Sam had no idea where he was. Panic began to set in and he scrambled to his feet. “Gabriel? Please, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“I know,” the archangel’s voice came from close by. “I just needed some distance so I could think of another solution.”

“I didn’t say no,” Sam pointed out. There was silence, marred only by the sound of Sam’s breathing. “I was just pointing out that I am insane and you might want to consider that.”

“Are you sure?” Gabriel breathed. There was a curiously naked vulnerability in that question.

Sam took a deep breath. He was insane. This was as crazy as when he said yes to Lucifer in order to try and trick him into the Cage. Oh well, sanity was doubtless overrated. “Yes.”

Gabriel was back, wrapped around Sam as tightly as he could without restricting his ability to breathe. “OK,” he said huskily. “OK. You have to do this, Sam, because I can’t access my Grace. But it should still work. Close your eyes.”

“It’s pitch black in here,” Sam objected. “It doesn’t matter if my eyes are open or closed.”

“Trust me,” Gabriel said and Sam complied. “Now, try and reach down inside yourself, just feel your way until you find your center.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Sam grumbled.

“You will, when you find it,” Gabriel told him. “When you do, imagine pushing it outwards towards me.” Sam concentrated and felt a dislocating feeling like he was falling and then suddenly peace swept over him. This must be what Gabriel had meant. He visualized it pushing outwards. “Yes, that’s it. Good, now, brace yourself.”

There was a flash, a stinging sensation all over his skin and he leaned his head back as it swam violently before righting itself. Nausea roiled in his gut and for a moment he feared he might pass out.

“Now, very carefully open your eyes,” Gabriel instructed. “You’re going to be able to see now, so try not to freak out.”

Sam let his lids rise slowly, but even with Gabriel’s warning, he wasn’t prepared for the vision in front of him. Gabriel was glowing and golden, his eyes warm and his mouth smiling. The corridor was still obviously dark, but it was like pale moonlight was flooding the area, allowing Sam to make out shapes like a doorway to his right and a stone chest on the opposite wall.

“The connection is giving you to limited access to some of my passive abilities,” Gabriel explained. “Being able to see in the dark is one of them.”

“What are the others?” Sam asked, awestruck.

“We’ll have to see,” Gabriel said opaquely. Sam got a sudden sense of evasiveness and apprehension that seemed to wash over him and felt slightly alien. He realized it was direct emotional backwash from the archangel and gasped. “Yeah, it’s going to be a bit distracting for a while. I think we’re safe here, just relax and take your time to get used to it a bit.”

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked. He got the answer, relief and regret, before Gabriel opened his mouth.

“Better,” he said. He gave Sam a wry look. “I wish we hadn’t had to do it. We’re going to pay for this later in spades.”

That made Sam’s stomach lurch again. But it was done now, and there was little point whining about it. Instead, he clasped Gabriel’s face in his hands and kissed him gently. Almost immediately he realized his mistake. With the feedback coming through from the archangel, he went from a simple affectionate kiss to almost uncontrollable need, thrusting his hands into Gabriel’s hair and moving their bodies together in a desperate search for release.

Gabriel shoved hard at him and scuttled backwards, his eyes wild. “Woah. Easy, tiger.”

“Sorry,” Sam said, gritting his teeth against the ache in his groin and the relentless coiling arousal inside him. Gabriel was right, they shouldn’t be doing this here. He took a few deep breaths and could feel Gabriel wrestling with his own surging desire but he was able to block that out and focused instead on pinching the skin under his armpit, the pain providing blessed distraction until he got himself under control.

“We probably shouldn’t stay here any longer,” he said. If he focused on the task at hand, maybe the sudden presence of a sexy archangel in his head could be ignored. Maybe.

 

* * *

 

Cas hurried away from the storm of Dean’s temper and headed out to his truck. The Men of Letters were more than a problem now, they were an active threat. He didn’t understand how Dean and Mary couldn’t see this, but he knew he had to act if he was going to prevent a catastrophe.

He closed the door and locked it and then reclined the seat as far as it would go and closed his eyes. If anyone happened to see him, he’d just look like he was sleeping. He reached out his Grace, searching for the answering tone of Michael’s. It didn’t take him long to find the archangel, Michael wasn’t exactly good at hiding himself, having never needed to do so before.

“Michael,” he said softly. “It’s Castiel.” Unnecessary of course, Michael would have known who he was the moment he felt the touch of Cas’s Grace.

“Well met, Castiel,” Michael responded immediately. “Do you have those cards for me?”

“No,” Cas told him. “This concerns another matter. Can we meet?”

“If we must.” He sounded reluctant but Cas couldn’t really blame him for that. “I am in a city called Peoria, it is in Illinois.” Cas froze, why was Michael here, only a few hours away? And in the hometown of the man who’d created those wretched tarot cards in the first place? This was not a coincidence. Such things did not happen around Michael.

“I will come and meet you,” Cas said. He wished he didn’t feel like he was betraying Dean, but he could see no other way.

Michael gave him the address of a motel in the city. “This had better be important.”

“It is,” Cas assured his brother. “It concerns Necropolis.” He felt Michael’s astonishment.

“Then you’d better hurry,” he said.

Cas opened his eyes and straightened the seat before starting the engine and driving away. He drove faster than was typical for him, but he was certain that every second lost meant they were one tick closer to something terrible.

As soon as he found the motel, he scrambled out of the truck and dashed across the lot to Michael’s room. It felt somewhat incongruous to be meeting with Michael, the ruler of Heaven, in a crappy motel in a small city, but Michael had been adamant that he did not want the Host to know of his return at this time. Cas wondered about that and what his brother was planning.

He knocked tentatively on the door, and Michael opened it immediately, ushering him inside and looking around in a paranoid fashion before closing it again. He was still possessing Adam Milligan, his hair now long and curling to his shoulders. It was odd, since Michael would have had to deliberately choose to force the hair to grow. Physical vanity had never been part of his makeup before. But the Cage changed everyone, it was said. He was smartly if blandly dressed in a handmade gray suit that was considerably more expensive than anything else in the room. Again, strangely out of character, not to mention making it harder to blend in a place like this. Cas frowned to himself at the incongruities.

The room was shabby and spartan, not unlike some of the crappier motels Sam and Dean sometimes stayed in, with worn brown carpet, ugly tan curtains and matching comforters on two queen beds.

“I trust you weren’t followed,” Michael said thinly.

Cas just gaped at him. “Who would follow me? And why?”

“There are enemies everywhere,” Michael said obliquely. He sat down on the edge of one of the beds and indicated with an elegant gesture that Cas should take the only chair. “Now, what’s this about Necropolis?”

“The Winchesters found an undamaged Gate,” Cas told him as he sat. “Sam accidentally opened it and fell in.”

Michael gave him a skeptical look. “Nobody just ‘accidentally’ opens a Gate to Necropolis, Castiel. And they certainly don’t fall in. Necropolis drew him in, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Cas admitted. “But I still don’t understand how he was able to open it.”

“There are a couple of possibilities,” Michael said. He crossed his legs and picked at an invisible thread on his pants. It was a peculiarly human behavior and was another thing that felt out of sync with the personality Cas had known for the whole of his existence. “One is that Sam Winchester is far smarter than I had supposed and has figured out how to cast the opening ritual safely.”

“While we might disagree on Sam’s intellect,” Cas said stiffly. “I can assure you we would have noticed if he was doing that. Neither Dean, Mary nor I noticed anything until seconds before the Gate opened.”

“Then the second possibility is that someone else opened it, and then only partially closed it, leaving it capable of opening to the touch of archangelic Grace. Which, as an ex-vessel of Lucifer, Sam perhaps carries some remainder.” Michael steepled his hands and scrutinized Cas, his lips pursed. Again, it seemed oddly human and totally unlike Michael’s usual pose. “Unless you somehow had an archangel with you.”

Cas froze in shock. The sly tone of Michael’s voice suggested the archangel suspected something. Did Michael know about Gabriel? And then he realized what his brother meant. “We’re not in league with Lucifer, if that’s what you mean,” he snapped. “We don’t even know if he’s alive.” He saw no reason to reveal to Michael that they knew Lucifer was roaming the planet, bouncing from vessel to vessel. If he knew that, any other considerations would be made to wait and Cas feared for Sam and Gabriel’s lives and sanity every minute they were in that unholy city.

“A Prince of Hell, then,” Michael said calmly. Cas struggled to keep control of his temper. It would not do anyone any good if he angered Michael and the archangel blasted him into the middle of next week. “No? Then my theory is probably correct. Someone set a trap, and Sam blundered right into it.” The was a faint smirk on his face and to his chagrin, Cas realized he’d been successfully baited. What he couldn’t fathom was why. Nor could he understand what Michael was getting at. What would trapping Sam in Nakhte’s realm achieve? None of this was making any sense.

“But why?” Cas said, letting his confusion show on his face. “Why would anyone want Sam Winchester in Necropolis?”

“You assume the trap was for him,” Michael said with one raised eyebrow. “He could have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I suppose.” Cas said, thinking about it. There were not many other people in the world walking around with a sliver of an archangel’s grace in their soul. Perhaps one of Raphael’s ex-vessels? He doubted it. “Right now I’m more concerned about how we get him out again.”

“You’re not willing to go in after him yourself?” Michael said slyly.

“Arariel crossed over and came out with his Grace cracked,” Cas said, folding his arms over his chest. He was aware it was a defensive maneuver, a quirk he’d picked up from Dean probably. “I’m no use to anyone if I lose my mind.”

“Agreed,” Michael said reluctantly. “I’m not keen to re-establish the link between our Graces, Castiel. I still don’t know how you managed to detach it, but now you are… contaminated. I am not willing to expose my purity to your corruption.”

Cas truly grasped in that moment the meaning of the human expression about taking a deep breath. The urge to punch Michael in the face, another impulse he’d no doubt acquired from long association with Dean, was almost overwhelming. “I understand,” he said tightly

“But perhaps I will do you this one favor,” Michael said magnanimously. “Perhaps it will spur your efforts to find my tarot cards.”

“Favor?” Cas said uncertainly.

“I will think about it alternatives. Perhaps I could link with another angel and we will go in and rescue your poor lost human,” Michael told him. “How does that sound?”

“Uh, good?” Cas said, now completely flummoxed. He had not expected this and was unsure how to interpret Michael's sudden generosity. He didn’t really trust his motivations but what choice did he have? He wanted to save his friend and his brother, and to keep Dean from harm. Sometimes you had to do a deal with the devil. Or, in this case, the devil’s older brother.

 

* * *

 

There was an arrhythmic hammering on the door and Mary dashed over and threw it open to see a very drunken Dean leaning on the frame. The smell of bourbon and vomit oozed from her son’s clothes and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Jesus,” she muttered and steered him into the room and onto one of the beds. “How much did you drink, Dean?” She opened the small fridge to grab a bottle of Gatorade and frowned at the leftover pizza that did not look very edible. Huffing out a breath of annoyance, she turned back to Dean and pressed the cold drink into his hands.

“Allofit,” Dean slurred, fumbling with the bottle. He shuffled up the bed and leaned against the wall, finally managing to wrestle open the top and drinking half of it in one draft.

Mary rolled her eyes. “This isn’t helpful. I know you’re frustrated and worried for Sam, but you need to stay focused.”

Dean ignored her, his gaze flitting around the room. “Where’s Cas?”

“Didn’t he come looking for you?” Dean shook his head and immediately regretted it as the room spun. “Then I don’t know,” Mary admitted. “He left a little after you did. I assumed he’d gone after you.”

“Truck’s gone,” Dean said. She frowned at him and rose to look out of the window. Dean was right, the rickety pickup truck the angel seemed oddly fond of was no longer parked next to the Impala. Since she’d returned, the relationship between her oldest son and this peculiar angel had been the source of a lot of concern and curiosity. But one thing was certain was his loyalty to both boys and this sudden unannounced disappearance made her uneasy.

“So it has,” she commented. “He must have decided to follow up on something. It’s odd that he didn’t mention where he was going.”

“Plan?”

“Dean, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” Mary sighed. “Sleep it off and we’ll talk later, OK? I’m gonna go call Max and Alicia, they might know something.”

Dean made a vague noise and slid down the bed, starting to snore almost immediately. She grumbled under her breath at him and left the room to go find a private spot for a phone call. She found a little cluster of picnic tables behind the motel and after establishing that nobody else was hanging around, dialed the Banes’s number.

“Hey,” Max said as he picked up. “Mary, we were just talking about you. How’s the witch hunt going?”

“Not well,” Mary confessed. “Is Alicia there now? Can you put me on speaker?”

“Sure,” Max said easily. “Shoot.”

Mary related the events of the past few days, omitting only Ketch’s involvement in the finding of the Gate and carefully eliding Gabriel’s real identity. Max and Alicia occasionally chimed in with exclamations of shock and astonishment.

“So, Sam’s trapped in this nightmare world, and we don’t really know how to get him back,” Mary finished. “We talked to the Men of Letters and they seem to think they can open the Gate, but that doesn’t protect anyone who goes there to rescue him and his friend.”

“This Gabriel is the guy you don’t like,” Max remembered.

“That’s not the point,” Mary said. “It’s not his fault Sam got dragged into that horrid place and he did try and save him. So I might not like him, but I owe him, even if he failed.”

“OK. Alicia and I have some books that might offer some pointers,” Max said and Mary heard Alicia in the background although she couldn’t make out what she said. “Alicia says she’s gonna call Mom,” Max told her. “Apparently Mom found a Necropolis artifact, back when we were kids. First I’ve heard of it. Maybe she knows something.”

“That’s great,” Mary said. “I’ll talk to you again soon.”


End file.
